


I've Just Seen A Face

by bigbidumbass



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigbidumbass/pseuds/bigbidumbass
Summary: The first time Tom saw the man in the mirror, he thought he was dreaming.AKA soulmates AU where, if you're both looking at a mirror at the same time, you see your soulmate.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	I've Just Seen A Face

The first time Tom saw the man in the mirror, he thought he was dreaming. He was sleepy enough that it was honestly entirely a possibility. He just sort of stared for a moment, looking at this stranger staring back at him instead of his reflection. The man looked just as confused as he did. 

Leaning down, Tom splashed his face with icy water, then looked back up. The man was still there. _Huh,_ he thought. Not the way he’d meant to start the morning. He raised his hand and waved, and after a second the man hesitantly returned a wave. 

Tom wondered if it was true, all that talk about if you ever saw a person in a mirror staring back at you instead of your reflection, it was your soulmate. It had all sounded insane, but, well, someone was staring back at him now and Tom couldn't quite help but wonder. 

He took a good look at the man. He was attractive, Tom had to admit. He didn’t exactly look like someone he’d usually date, but it wasn’t as if that mattered now. His features were sharp, striking— he wore a soft blue sweater and some trousers. Likewise to Tom, he looked as if he’d just woken up, as his hair was tousled and scattered. It was a soft… blonde? Brown?

For a brief moment, Tom wondered what the stranger thought of him. They looked like opposites, with Tom’s leather jacket and ripped jeans, the hoop earring in his ear, the hair that his mum was complaining looked like a mullet.

Tom wasn’t quite sure what to do now—he went back to his room and grabbed some paper. 

_What’s your name?_ he wrote, then turned it around to show the man, who shook his head in confusion. Tom’s brow creased, then he realised— it was a mirror, and he had to write backwards. He rewrote it again but backwards now, in much messier handwriting but at least it would be legible. 

And like a charm, when he turned it around, the man’s face lit up and he disappeared for a moment. Tom stared at his own reflection and tried not to judge what he saw, waiting. And then the man came back with a notebook and wrote for a minute, flipping it around.

_Will,_ it said. He paused for a moment to write more— _you?_

_Tom,_ Tom wrote, and the man smiled and wrote again.

_Nice to meet you._

Tom smiled back at him and scribbled out a, _you too!_

Will’s hand was much neater than his was, even backwards. Everything about Will seemed to be neater than Tom was. Could he really be his soulmate? Or was that just a myth, some old wives tale?

Then again, how could he explain this in any other way? Tom wasn’t sure, so he wrote down more.

_Favorite color?_ he asked, and _blue_ came Will’s response. Tom nodded and meant to write more, but he heard Joe calling him and cursed. Shit, he’d nearly forgotten.

_Have to go,_ he wrote, and then on second thought added, _bye, Will!_

_Bye, Tom,_ Will wrote, and Tom waved before he left.

“You ready?” Joe asked, “We’re late.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Tom told him, “I… just got a bit distracted.”

“I could tell,” Joe said, stern emotions melting into his usual smile. “It’s alright, it’ll be fine.”

“Right!” Leslie called from outside. “Will you pricks hurry up? I was planning on sleeping in the car, and if we don’t go now I’m gonna fall asleep here!”

Joe rolled his eyes, but opened the door and let Tom out.

“Morning, Ellis,” Tom called, using the name he knew Leslie didn’t like to be called.

“Oh, shut up and get in the car,” Leslie replied. 

“Yes, Sir,”Tom said, shooting him a mocking salute. Leslie groaned and got in the passenger seat, and Joe was soon there.

“Remind me where we’re going and why we’re doing it absurdly early,” Leslie sighed, and Joe’s face lit up. 

“We’re going to see an art collection,” Joe told him, “And the reason we’re going early is that it’s a long drive and it’s only there temporarily—it’s closed in the evenings. We want time to actually _see_ the art, don’t we?” 

Leslie’s response was another groan as he slumped against the window, trying to get comfortable.

“Well, I’m going to try and sleep,” he grumbled. “Wake me up when we get there.”

As they drove, Tom couldn’t help but think of Will. Was he in England, or even better, Essex? Could it be that they had seen each other before, brushed by each other in the street and just not known it?

And then a terrible thought crossed Tom’s mind—who was to say that Will was even a real living, breathing person? What if he was some sort of illusion or hallucination, a false image? But then again, Will might be thinking the same of him at this very moment.

As they got closer and Joe woke Leslie up, Tom pushed all thoughts of Will from his mind and tried to enjoy himself. But as they strolled through the art exhibit, Tom couldn’t help but look at the people around him, hoping to catch a glance of Will. 

Once they’d gotten back home, Tom raced to his room and headed for his mirror. Sadly, when he looked into it, only his own reflection stared back. That figured—not many people really looked in their mirror at midnight, but still… Tom had really hoped. 

“Ah, well,” he muttered to himself, getting ready for bed. Perhaps he’d catch him tomorrow.

But the next morning, Will was again not in his mirror. Tom remembered that the only time he’d seen Will was when he’d gotten up at five in the morning, and his stomach dropped. Sure, he wanted to see Will, but… maybe not _that_ bad. 

Tom went about his day, doing routine checks in the mirror to make sure that Will was still gone. And then, finally, about five in the afternoon, he caught the blonde staring back at him, looking a bit more put together than the first time Tom had seen him.

When he caught sight of Tom, he smiled and gave a small wave. Tom waved back and went to grab his paper. When he got back, it appeared Will had done the same. Tom didn’t want to seem creepy in asking him where he lived, so he decided that could wait. 

_How was your day?_ he wrote, and Will shrugged and made a so-so expression. 

_You?_ he asked, and Tom wrote, _Good! I baked._

_What did you bake?_ Will asked, and _lemon bars_ came the response. The more he did it, the easier it was to write backwards. Will smiled at him and wrote, _I love lemon bars! Do you bake a lot?_

Tom wrote a simple _yes,_ in response, nodding vigorously. _My sister bakes,_ Will told him, _she’s a pastry chef._

_Really?_ Tom asked. _That’s amazing! I considered it when I was younger but ended up not going through._

_Yeah,_ Will replied, _she started out in medical school but just didn’t enjoy it. Our parents were luckily supportive, and now she co-owns a bakery and is doing very well._

Tom smiled at that—it was so personal in such a lovely way, to hear about this stranger’s sister. _I’m glad to hear it,_ he wrote to Will. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to run that hill and added, _Do you live in England?_

_Yes,_ was the response. _You as well?_

_Yes,_ Tom replied. _Essex._

_Essex is brilliant,_ Will wrote, _I’ve been there a few times and it’s lovely._

Ah. So Will wasn’t from Essex, but he was at least in England. Tom could work with that— he didn’t dare to ask where Will was from.

_It is,_ he responded. _What do you do for a living?_

_I’m a photographer,_ Will told him, _I mainly shoot portraits and weddings._

_Photography?_ Tom replied, and now the reason why Will had been up at 5 in the morning the other day had come clear. _I love photography! I took a few classes—I used to shoot a lot more than I do now, but I still love it._

Will was smiling at him again. _Yes, it’s brilliant,_ he wrote, _My dream job, to be honest._

Tom nodded and smiled back at him, and he was about to write a response when Will wrote again:

_What about you?_ He asked Tom, who shrugged. 

_I’m a graphic designer,_ he wrote, _but I also work as a general artist and a video editor, when needed._

_Really?_ Will responded. _I admit I don’t know much about that field, but I love a good career in the arts._

_Me too,_ Tom wrote. 

They talked well into the night, talking about favorite books, about siblings, about romance. Will mentioned an ex-boyfriend once, and Tom got a bit too excited and wrote: _boyfriend?_

Will’s happy expression flickered for a bit, and he paused and then wrote, _yes, boyfriend. I’m bisexual._

Tom was very glad to hear that, and if anything that simply supported his soulmate theory. It would have been a shit happening if he’d been thinking, perhaps this is the person that’s made for me, and then Will had turned out to straight.

_I’m gay!!_ Tom wrote in response, and Will’s smile returned as he drew a smiley face and showed Tom. It was backwards, a frowny face, but Tom got the message and laughed a bit. Realising his mistake, Will turned it back over and drew it again, backwards this time, and Tom nodded and did the same. There was a nice moment where they just smiled at each other and their silly drawings before Tom picked his pen up again and wrote more.

_How do you think this came about, anyway?_ He asked.

_No idea,_ Will told him. _It’s a bit strange._

_Yeah,_ Tom agreed, and he had meant to continue his thought, but Will had picked up a small, orange kitten and any other thoughts Tom had, vanished away.

_Cute!_ He wrote, _I love cats! I have a dog—her name is Myrtle!_

Will tried to write, but the kitten was struggling from his arms and he gave Tom a helpless look.

_You can go,_ Tom wrote, _the poor thing needs you!_

Will gingerly set the cat down and wrote some more. 

_Her name is Peanut,_ he said, _and yes, unfortunately, I had better go— I have an early shoot. It was fantastic to talk with you, though._

_You too,_ Tom told him, and he waited for Will’s response. 

_We should do this again,_ Will suggested, _Are you free, same time tomorrow night?_

Tom’s heart skipped a beat—Will had liked talking with him enough that he wanted to do it again? 

_Yes,_ he replied, and Will smiled at him and waved goodbye. 

Tom went to bed that night elated, smiling as he stared up at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

He spent the majority of the next day on the same high, impatiently waiting until he could talk to Will. It was a bit silly that he was so excited to see someone he barely knew, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he and Will shared some sort of connection, and he really wanted to build it as much as he could.

Perhaps they’d even meet in real life, and be able to have a regular conversation! He wondered if it was a bit soon to be thinking things like that, but on the other hand, he didn’t care. 

When he was at the store, his eyes lingered on a mirror, and he wondered a bit if it worked in any mirror. If he could set it up in his bedroom, it would be much more comfortable—leaning on the bathroom counter just wasn’t the same as sitting on a bed or a chair. 

Deciding it would be worth the try, he bought it. He also bought a dry erase board and some markers—he was running out of paper, and this was a much easier and less wasteful option. And then he brought them home, getting them set up and ready. He decided that when Will got there, he’d start in the bathroom mirror, and then he’d try it out it in his room And then, like clockwork, when the time arrived, Will was in the mirror at the same time he was, and they both waved hello to each other. 

_Wait,_ Tom wrote, finding the bathroom uncomfortable, _let me try something!_ He set his marker down and went back into his bedroom, sitting down. Will was there in the mirror, still, and Tom felt a bit proud of himself for figuring it out. 

Will nodded, seeming to understand what had happened, and disappeared for a moment. A moment later, he came back into view, with a different set of surroundings—what must have been his bedroom. He sat on his bed and drew a smiley face, and Tom did the same, trying not to stare at Will’s bedroom.

It was just that there was something so personal about seeing someone’s room, the place they go to feel safe, and this one certainly suited Will. It was clean and open, soft blues and greens. 

Tom wondered what on earth Will thought of _his_ room. He’d cleaned it recently, at least, but it was not anywhere near so put together. 

_How was your shoot?_ He asked Will, and Will made a face. 

_Not great,_ he admitted, _it was family photos and they all argued the entire time. The photos came out good, though._

_I’m sorry to hear that,_ Tom wrote, and Will shrugged,

_Not a big deal,_ he said, _anyway, how was your day?_

_Good!_ Tom wrote, _nothing particularly interesting, but I had a good time._

_Good,_ Will wrote, and he was grinning at Tom in a way that made his stomach flutter. He wondered if he was in too deep too fast. Or... was it simply that Will was his soulmate? He hated to admit it, but he’d certainly begun to hope so— his feelings were beginning to get stronger.

It became a routine. A couple nights a week, interchangeable depending on their schedules, he and Will would sit in front of the mirror and talk. Tom considered him to be a good friend, even though he quite honestly longed to hear what Will’s voice sounded like. He pictured it as soft, gentle—he didn’t know what city Will was from, so he couldn’t quite place an accent, but there were times that he pictured London, Cookham, Manchester. Probably not Liverpool, because Tom couldn’t imagine it at all.

He looked forward to their evening chats, and he hoped that Will did too. Will always seemed happy to see him, though, so perhaps there was hope. 

Tom was tempted to ask him where he was from, to suggest that they meet up, but he never found the courage. What if it was a push too far, and Will didn’t want to meet him? Or even more, what if they did meet but Will didn’t like the reality of him?

So he never asked. He settled for conversations about their days and their pets and their jobs and everything else. It was more than enough, really.

A few months in, Will let him know that he’d be going on a vacation, and he would be gone for a week. Tom didn’t ask where he was going, and Will didn’t say. A part of Tom wondered if maybe Will was coming to Essex, but he didn’t want to say because then Tom might get the wrong idea and want to meet up, and perhaps Will didn’t want it.

After a moment, Tom pushed those thoughts from his mind. No need to be insecure or irrational—it wasn’t important where Will was going on vacation.

The week that he was gone felt a bit lonely, but it meant more time to annoy Leslie and to spend with Joe, which Tom happily did. The two of them had recently gotten engaged, and their wedding planning was a bit chaotic, to say the least. Leslie was simply neutral on everything, and Joe was very specific about what he wanted, but he also didn’t want to be the only one choosing. 

Tom sat and fondly watched them banter, wondering if he’d ever be in a love like that. More particularly, would he ever be in a love with _Will_ like that?

When Will returned, Tom was very happy to see him, and Will gave him his usual smile.

_Hi!_ He greeted Tom, who returned the greeting and waved.

_How was your vacation?_ He asked, and Will nodded. 

_It was good! I drove down to France with my sister,_ he told Tom, who couldn’t help but relax a bit. 

See. France, not Essex, he thought. 

_That sounds amazing!_ Tom wrote. _I love France, I’ve been a few times. Did you have fun?_

Will smiled and nodded again. _Yes, he wrote, it was very fun. I missed you, though._

Tom had to fight to keep his composure clear as he processed that and his heart dared to hope. 

_I missed you too,_ he wrote, and he couldn’t help but feel as though he was somehow baring his entire heart.

And, just as if Will hadn’t been gone at all, they fell right back into things. It wasn’t much longer, though, before Tom himself had to take a vacation—to London with Joe and Leslie. He considered telling Will where he was going, but he decided it was better to be vague like Will had. 

He was too nervous to know if he’d _actually_ want to meet Will in real life, too worried that it would somehow ruin what they had. He settled for telling him that he was going on vacation with his brother and that he’d be back in two weeks.

_I’ll miss you,_ Will told him, and those words lodged directly in his chest, their meaning toeing the line of affection and friendship. 

_I’ll miss you too,_ Tom told him. 

When they left, Tom instructed himself that he was not going to worry about Will, not when he was on vacation and meant to be having fun. He pushed thoughts of him from his mind and gazed out the window for the drive, enjoying the sights around them. 

Tom loved London, the way the city had a certain bustle to it. Well, he just loved to travel in general, but there was a personal endearment to this place—nostalgia surrounded it, as his mum had taken him and Joe there once a year. Tom had often considered moving there, and he had taken to looking at flats near the area. 

When they arrived in the hotel, Tom glanced at the mirror and realised that he’d never really tried other mirrors to talk to Will outside of his house. Perhaps they still could have kept up their evening chats? But then again, a vacation was meant to remove you from the routines of daily life, so Tom supposed that a break wasn’t a bad idea. Will had taken one when he’d gone to France. It was just Tom’s turn now.

For the first few days, he was able to successfully banish Will from his thoughts and simply enjoy the sights and the city with Leslie and Joe. It wasn’t until the fourth day that he caught a glimpse of a man with dark blonde hair, and his heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

But no, the man turned around and it was certainly not Will, but Tom couldn’t help but be shaken.

_You don’t even know if he’s in the city,_ he told himself. _He could be in Cambridge for all you know._ But he had the strangest feeling Will was in London, and it haunted him for the next few days. 

Then, at the beginning of the second week, both Joe and Leslie fell ill. It wasn’t severe, but it was enough to keep the two of them bedridden and resting as Tom went out on his own. Joe had written out a whole plan for the day, but Tom ignored that and went wherever he wanted to, looking at small sweet shops and bookshops and a cafe.

A cafe where he caught sight of a man with dark blonde hair. _It’s not him,_ he told himself, but as the man shifted in his seat, it _was._ It was indisputably Will, with his sharp jaw and wise eyes and his love for sweaters. 

Tom had never felt so many emotions in a short amount of time. His heart was practically deafening everything else out, pounding in his ears at a rate that, if continued, might be mistaken for a heart attack. 

_Will he like me?_ Tom thought. _What if he’s disappointed, or my voice is annoying?_ Or, even worse, _what if he somehow doesn’t even know who I am? Or, dear God, what if he’s not single?_

It was suddenly occurring to Tom that he’d never even thought to ask if Will was in a relationship, and he was feeling very foolish. But then, wouldn’t Will have mentioned his partner? Or perhaps Will was trying to keep that private?

Any second thoughts Tom was having about going in and saying hello were deemed pointless, though, because as he stared in the window, Will looked up and caught sight of him. 

Freezing for a moment, Will did a double-take, then excitement spread over his face and he stood and waved. Tom waved back, trying not to smile _too_ large, then headed in and sat across Will. His hands were trembling very badly, but he stuffed them out of sight and tried to hide how nervous he was. Granted, he was excited, too, but mostly nervous. 

“Hi,” he blurted, and Will laughed though this time he could hear it. 

“Hi,” Will replied. “I didn’t know you were coming to London.”

His voice _was_ soft, but his accent wasn’t from London. Perhaps he’d grown up somewhere else and then moved to the city. 

“I didn’t know you _lived_ in London,” Tom replied, and Will gave a smile. 

“Well,” he said, “I… I was a bit nervous that I’d be a bit disappointing if you ever met me.”

“You aren’t,” Tom told him, and Will flushed a bit, “But I know what you mean. I worried about that too.”

“You aren’t either,” Will assured him, and Tom felt relief run through his body. 

“So,” Tom said, gesturing to the cafe, “Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes,” Will said. “When I’m trying to stop being distracted by things.”

“And what were you distracted by today?” Tom asked, grinning. 

“You,” Will said. Tom’s cheeks instantly went hot. _Oh,_ he thought quickly.

Will’s expression went a bit shy, and Tom couldn’t help but wonder if he’d really meant it that way. He cleared his throat and tried not to give away the fact that he was noticing how nice Will smelled, how all of the feelings that had developed over the better part of the year were now present, and even stronger in person.

Would it be the wrong move to tell him how he felt, now? To tell him that he’d been planning to move to London and that maybe now they could… could… Tom couldn’t finish the thought, he was buzzing with too many emotions. 

“I’ve been thinking about moving here, you know,” Tom said, figuring that it was at least a topic place to start from.

“Really?” Will asked, and if Tom hadn’t known better, he’d have thought that Will sounded a bit eager at the thought.

“Yeah,” Tom said, “I love it here, so, I was just—I’ve looked at a few places. I live my brother now, but he’s getting married soon, so I’d have to find my own place, anyway.” 

“I know some people who are renting out a room, with good pricing,” Will told him, “Maybe I could get you their information if you really wanted to move here?” 

Tom couldn’t help but beam at him. 

“Yes,” he said, “Yes, I’d like that.”

There was a moment of silence, and Tom fiddled with the ring on his pinky. 

“How much longer are you here for?” Will asked him, though the hesitation before it made Tom wonder if he had been planning to ask something else. 

“Six more days,” Tom said, “Though on my last day, I’m trapped into going to the London Natural History Museum with Joe and Leslie.”

“Well,” Will started, “Would you want to have lunch with me today, then?”

Tom didn’t attempt to hide the smile that spread across his face.

“Yes,” he replied.

But it wasn’t only lunch—it was Will taking him to his favorite bookshop, to his favorite view, to a small park just outside of the city. As they walked through it, one of the only people there, Tom fought off the impulse to hold his hand.

Luckily, he didn’t have to fight it off much longer, though, as Will gave him a tender look and very cautiously reached for his hand, and Tom gladly took it and smiled, trying not to overthink about what that might have meant. 

“Tom,” Will started, slowly, “I… I have to confess that I, well, I really like you. As in, er- _like_ you, and I—I know this might change things between us, but, well, it was killing me not to have you know.” He paused for a moment, shyly glancing at Tom to discern his expression, then continued. 

“I’ve tried to tell you so many times before, but I just… got scared,” he admitted. “You don’t have to feel the same way at all, there’s no obligation or anything, I just… you know.”

Tom felt as though he was dreaming. He gazed at Will and half-expected him to say that he was joking, but it never came.

“Fuck, Will,” he exclaimed, “I like you too! I have for ages!”

Will’s face broke into a smile, and he gave Tom’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m… I’m very glad to hear that,” Will told him, relief palpable in his voice. “Can I, er—can I kiss you?”

This was most definitely a dream, it had to be, it was much too wonderful. 

“Yes,” he exclaimed breathlessly, and Will softly smiled and tucked his free hand in to cradle Tom’s jaw. He slowly nuzzled against Tom’s cheek, then gently, sweetly, pressed his lips against Tom’s, who instantly leaned into the kiss.

Tom buried his hand in Will’s hair and tried to implant this moment into his memory forever.

When they had finally broken apart, Will planted a soft kiss on Tom’s forehead and held him.

“You know,” Tom said, “I’ve heard that if you look into a mirror and someone else looks back, it’s your soulmate.”

Will chuckled and pulled away to look at him, brushing a strand of hair out of Tom’s face.

“I believe it,” he said.

Looking into Will’s eyes, Tom did too.


End file.
